


Old Friend, New Family

by ReclessAbandon



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anon - Freeform, Childhood Trauma, Clone Wars, Defected Clone Trooper, Ex-Padawan, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jedi, Jedi Survivor, Order 66, Order 66 Survivor, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Padawan, Post-Order 66, Requested by anon, Trauma, Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, anon request, fic req
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReclessAbandon/pseuds/ReclessAbandon
Summary: Barely surviving the execution of Order 66, having watched your own master die right in front of your very eyes, and ultimately scared to death as a child—all hope seemed to be lost. Until you were saved by the unlikeliest person imaginable—a Clone Trooper called Strig who apparently removed his inhibitor chip days prior to that fateful day.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	1. That Fateful Day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in my Tumblr, requested by an Anon from my ask box.

**_HOURS BEFORE THE EXECUTION OF ORDER 66_ **

A pair of Jedi Starfighters zoom back and forth in gracefully in the sky of Plardel—a peaceful planet in the Gorio system plagued by the vermin that are the Separatist and their droid army—cutting through clouds and leaving smoky trails in their wake. From a bird’s eye view, you and your Master, Zal Karos, watched the battle on the surface. It was only a matter of time when the two of you have arrived into the planet after departing from the Republic command ship, Ultimatum, flanked with a company of pilots to aid the aerial assault.

A hologram of the admiral in the Ultimatum crackled into both your comms.

“General Karos, the blockade has been cut!”

“Just in time for the relief convoy!” the Kel Dor responded enthusiastically.

“We better start cleaning house then, Master!” you chirped through your radio.

“I was about to say the same thing, my Padawan!”

Zal Karos began instructing you to already engage in the standard operating procedure for the ejection sequence, programming your own astromech droids to override the ship and activate auto-pilot, flying lower and closer to the surface.

“Get ready to eject, [y/n]!” Master Karos radioed you through your ship’s comms.

“Ready when you are, Master!”

You pulled the lever at the bottom side of your seat and sent yourself flying out of your own starfighter. Using your Jedi reflexes, your landing was smooth—the same goes for your Master—now you’ve caught yourself in the crossfire between the 89th Legion and the droid army keeping the capital city from you.

The troops drew the droids’ fire while you and Master Karos charged onward, keeping up with your own vanguard, aiding them at the same time. Battle droids of all types—B1 battle droids, droidekas, and super battle droids—poured out of the city.

_Just how many are they keeping in there!?_

You continued deflecting the projectiles of the lanky battle droids back and forth, advancing as you thinned the numbers of their frontlines together with your Master, the Kel Dor looked over his shoulder and beckoned the troops to break through.

“Onward, child!”

You wanted to show Zal Karos how much you have learned from him, you applied every technique from close contact to long range combat, you were side-to-side with your Master. He saw that you’ve become more skilled with the lightsaber than before.

“Keep it up, [y/n]!”

“The Jedi have breached the city gates!” one battle droid reported through its built-in commlink but wasn’t able to request reinforcements in time. Your lightsaber had severed it into half before it could do so.

Once broken through, Master Karos barked orders at a handful of troopers to secure the locals held hostage in the residential areas and the central business district.

“The rest of you, keep pressing on!” the Kel Dor barked through his mask. He then turns to you, softening his commander-like bark into his normal voice while retaining that firm tone. “We’re heading straight to the Prime Minister’s Palace, child. That’s where the Separatist leader will be. Be ready!”

“Yes, Master!”

More battle droids marched to your general direction and there was no other alternative but to fight. Their numbers are significantly smaller, although they have deployed more super battle droids than the generic ones, the opposition was also accompanied by walkers.

Normally, your side would be overwhelmed as you’re only accompanied by ARC troopers and regular troopers.

“We’re outgunned!” a trooper, faceless in the crowd, cried in despair.

“Not if I have anything to say about that!”

Using the Force, you carried a metal beam large enough to sweep-kick the walkers off their feet—consequently crushing the droids in its path and thinning the herd altogether.

“Exemplary thinking, young Padawan!” Karos commended.

You smiled back at him as thanks and with the big problem out of the picture, the tables have turned for the droid army. The sniper troopers have finally reached their vantage points in the ruins of the city and took down the droids as the army cut through. Eventually, you’ve reached the Minister’s Palace and arrested the Neimoidian Separatist leader after taking down his small dispatch of guards outside the office.

Although you’ve secured the Palace and rescued the hostages, resulting to this campaign’s victory, something doesn’t feel right. The master and apprentice stayed in the office room watching LAAT gunships filled with reinforcements and medical support arrive.

“I sense there is something troubling you, Padawan [y/n].”

“I’m sorry, Master. I’ve been sensing something since this morning, though I can’t exactly say what it is—it feels ominous,” you shake off the thought. “I’m sorry again, that is quite pessimistic of me to say.”

“Not at all, child. Likewise, I thought I was the only one having that sort of feeling. The Force is unpredictable, but never mischievous,”

“Something tells me there’s a gloom lingering about this victory, Master,”

“You have become more insightful of your feelings and visions of late, Padawan. It seems to be serving you well. Not many have reached that point, especially in your age. I don’t think you should be apologetic about it.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I strongly believe it is. To see beyond plain sight and looking ahead are vital aspects of a Jedi’s wisdom.”

A smile played along in your face, even through your master’s mask, you can feel the warmth of his compassion for you. The master and his apprentice continue to watch the gunships dot the sky as they approach the city. From behind, the office door could be heard opening, a clone and his commander let themselves in.

“General Karos, the reinforcements have arrived for the troopers and the refugees. We’re just conducting a clean sweep of the palace in case of any stragglers—whether droid or Separatist.” Reported the commander.

“I leave it in your capable hands, Commander Pollux.”

“Thank you sir, this is another victory of the Republic!”

“Hey kid,” the Clone Trooper called. “Nice fighting out there!”

“Thanks Wade!” you beamed.

Wade dismissed himself out of the room whilst Commander Pollux remained in the room, he was Karos’s guard after all. Meanwhile, you and the master began conversing on the subject of the supply convoy.

“Do you think there are enough for the refugees?”

“About ten transports are deployed, I think it will be more than enough for the—agh!”

Suddenly, the demeanor of your master fumbled, he back hunched as he pinched the space between his brows, fighting back a burdening sensation in his head.

“Master!” you cried out, startled with his abrupt disoriented state. “Are you hurt?”

Within Commander Pollux’s earshot, his holodisk beeped. Upon answering, a cloaked figure crackled into existence.

_“The time has come. Execute Order 66!”_

“It will be done, my lord.”

“Padawan… there’s something… wrong…” the Kel Dor struggled to speak.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Command Pollux raising his rifle right at Karos’s heart.

“Pollux, what are you doing!? NO… WAIT!!!”

Albeit weakened by the violent pain in his head, the Kel Dor’s Jedi reflexes never betrayed him. He banked the shot from Commander Pollux’s blaster, killing the clone in the process. Everything happened so fast you didn’t even know what to make of it. From the other side of the door, the clones’ distant voices echoed across the corridors of the palace. Karos glanced once more at the office window and found your Starfighters sitting by the recently-arrived LAAT.

“Master! Pollux… he…!”

“There’s no time, child. Get ready to fight!”

Drowned in your own confusion, you don’t know where to put your finger on it. Relying your master and him alone, you did as you were told—you ignited your lightsabers in unison, Karos counted to three before opening the door.

_One…_

“The Jedi are in there!”

_Two…_

“They’re both trapped in the office!”

_Three!_


	2. Not All Seems Lost

The Kel Dor master used the Force to open the door and at least five Clone Troopers clustered together at the door, blocking your only exit out of the room, and it’s only the two of you against them. Taking cover from their fire behind the office desk, banking their shots was the only possibly strategy if you want to get out of the office and to the Starfighters.

Mere minutes ago, you were guarding against blaster fire from droids… and now you’re trading them with your _own_ clones—the men who you thought were your most trusted allies.

_This can’t be happening! What went wrong?!_

The distress in your mind was loud enough for Master Karos to take notice.

With your backs pressed against the desk for cover, Master Karos could only afford a few seconds to tell you a compressed version of his plan within less than twenty words.

“Padawan, listen to me _very_ carefully. The clones have betrayed us. The Starfighters—we have to get to the Starfighters. It’s our only way of escape!”

“I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are they trying to kill us all of a sudden!?”

“The Council _must_ have an answer for this. In the meantime, we have to get out of this palace and get to the landing pad. We have to get rid of those at the door. Ready?”

You nodded and followed your master’s lead. It appears some of them hugged the wall and blindly fired from where they hid. The last Clone Trooper standing in your way of the exit fell lifeless to the ground.

“The exit’s open! Go, [y/n]!” the Kel Dor bellowed.

You leaped over the pile of bodies that blocked the door from ever closing. The corridor is seemingly empty, but you’re half-anticipating that there would be more. Master Karos clutched your shoulder and bent down so his eyes are level to yours.

“Stay close to me. Keep running and _don’t look back._ Understand?”

You were stuck between catching your breath while fighting back sobs as you’re scared and confused all at the same time. The only reply he got from you is a nod, but it was an answer nonetheless. He stole a moment to look at you—suddenly, he remembered that small, bright-eyed child in the Temple and he stroked the back of your head before standing up.

Perhaps, this is the first time you saw him genuinely smile past his protective mask—and apparently the last.

“Now, [y/n]… Run!”

Keeping up with your master’s running pace, the clone troopers came from all sides of the halls. There was no need for close combat, though you had to deflect their blasts in quick succession—some ricocheted against the walls, others met its mark on the clone troopers’ bodies.

“Almost there, [y/n]—keep running!”

The more you both ran, the little you did in protecting yourselves from the clones in using your weapons, it was more evading their fire when it was only two of three of them—you only whipped out your saber when there was more of them waiting for you to show up in the next turn.

In bigger groups, Zal Karos would simply incapacitate the clones with his Force push and shut the door by destroying the panel. Later on, you ended up running ahead of him while he covers you from the flank. You went ahead in the next turn, but you were too eager to escape that you didn’t look the other way.

“I found the child!” the clone shouted and pulled the trigger on you.

Your last-minute deflect was flimsy, resulting to the projectile grazing the corner of your shoulder. The next shot was better and you returned fire to the clone trooper who injured you before continuing on.

“Master, I see the landing pad!”

“Good, [y/n], come on!”

By the time you got to the entrance of the landing pad, the clone troopers at your tail have increased in numbers. Master Karos could only hold them off enough for you to reach your objective. You’ve returned to the scene of the carnage from the siege that transpired mere minutes ago, but you and your master have been outnumbered by the clone troopers closing in on you from behind.

“Nowhere to run.” One of the clones snarled with a sinister persistence.

Indeed, it seems that there is nowhere to run. The Jedi Master saw only one last possibility for survival—and he wasn’t in it. However, he knew that perfectly well, and he made peace with that just now.

“[y/n], my Padawan, whatever happens… Survive!”

“What…?!”

The clones raised their rifles in full unison and their fingers curled against the triggers; a second’s notice was all he can afford but it was all Master Karos needs—he lifted you high up with the Force, he tossed you away to a distance far from the circle of clone troopers that surrounded you. From where you lie, you could barely see him over the clones’ shoulders that stood in the way, with your limited view you can see that he continued to fight even when it was a dozen to one.

The beams of the projectiles illuminated the circle of troopers and then you watched his body falter and jerk for every shot he took. You saw Zal Karos’s body fall flat to the floor but the clones continued to fire at him.

He fell down with his face turned to you, even with such a long distance, you can tell that your eyes meet.

“NOOO!!!” you screeched.

There was nothing you can do about him now.

_SURVIVE, [Y/N]!_

You heard his voice in your head, and that was enough to snap you back to your senses. Seeing that you were back outside in the city proper, you sought for a place to hide, stealing some detonators from fallen clones’ utility belts along the way for extra protection.

In the distance, the troopers exchange questions and orders.

“Where’s the little one!?”

“I don’t know, she can’t be far ahead!”

“Sweep the area! She can’t do much against us!”

You slipped into the wreckage of a LAAT gunship and hid in the cockpit for an indefinite time, despite its destruction, your size was enough for you to keep yourself out of sight. You curled into a ball, hugged your knees as you wept for this disaster and for your chaos. An ocean of questions flooded your little mind as the trauma slowly devoured your willpower.

_Is it over?_

_Am I going to die here?_

_Please, anybody… help._

In a time that felt like days have passed, the thunders of war seemed to have ceased. You crawled out of your hiding spot and attempted to return to the scene where you saw Master Karos for the final time.

_Master, did you die because of me? Because you had to save me? Did you really think I was helpless or useless or both?_

Your feet dragged through the body-strewn streets of the city, careful not to step on any of the fallen clones’ bodies, you looked around and saw their lifeless eyes peeking through the broken portions of their helmets—you felt a chill crawl down your already-weak spine—but continued on.

Eventually, you found Master Karos’s body left to rot in front of the city gates. The dust has settled on his robes as he remained in the last position you saw him. You knelt down and gently rolled him over with the remaining strength you have in your body right now. His skin has paled, his head bobbed to your direction, and knowing that there is nothing you can do anymore, you clutched his cold, dead hands and hunched over his body to weep.

“It’s over…” you sobbed. “We lost… I’m sorry, Master.”

The wind has picked up, the inferno crackled from the distance, and you remained there with your master on the ground; you stayed there until you could regain enough strength to bury him. It’s the only honor you can bestow to him. Even though you’re stricken with grief, you can sense someone approaching you; you feigned, pretending that you don’t anticipate the stranger coming to you, the click of the safety prompted your ear to twitch.

_What good can fighting do, anyway? I’m as good as dead._

You slowly raised your arms while still hunched over your master’s body.

“Oh, hey… Kid, are you okay?”

You’re startled by the compassion of the voice behind you—it was obviously a clone’s voice. Slowly lowering your hands and then glancing over your shoulder, you were correct when it was a clone but he didn’t behave hostile and trigger-happy like the others. The first thing you noticed is the motif of a horned creature with fangs painted above his helmet’s visor—from that, you knew which clone this was.

“Strig?”

He took off his helmet and revealed his face, confirming his identity—his head was shaven but growth had begun to show, a faint stubble traced his jaw and ended with a goatee, and the same motif was tattooed on one side of his head.

He was cautious with how he approached you, knowing that you’re obviously terrified with what transpired mere hours ago. He noticed the way you scoot closer to your master.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you again.

He slowly reached for your jaw, but you avoided him, apparently there was a cut that you must’ve gotten when Master Karos tossed you out of the line of fire; and then his hand hovered to your shoulder, pointing to where the blaster graze is.

Your fingers absentmindedly tapping the wound with the dried blood. “Are you going to kill me now?”

The clone’s eyebrows furrowed together, “No, why would I do that?”

“Because everyone else tried to.”

The clone sighed, seeming to be in the same page of confusion as you are—the only difference is that he has a better inkling about the manslaughter that happened hours ago. The seemingly-defected clone offered you his hand and helped you back up on your feet.

“Strig… what’s happened? Why did the clones tried to kill us?”

“That’s… look, it’s a bit complicated, [y/n],”

“Believe me, I’ve seen more complicated things to understand,”

Strig sighed when he knew you’re going to persist for answers. He sidetracked you on offering to help you bury Master Karos’s body.

“That _was_ what you’re planning to do, right?”

“Yeah, I just… I was just too weak to move.”

“Okay, kid, let me give you a hand.”

The clone helped in digging the hole, in the meantime, you tore off the pauldron bearing the insignia of the Jedi Order, and then used the Force to gently put Master Karos along with his lightsaber in his final resting place. The pauldron acted as a marker.

“I’m sorry if it’s not much, Master. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to save you. Still, I hope you find peace—for you are now one with the Force.” You prayed on your knees.

After your prayer, Strig helped you again on your feet, “Come on, kid. There’s nothing left for us here. But you don’t have to be alone anymore, you know. I got your back—as long as you promise you have mine!”


	3. In Another New Life

**_CURRENT TIMELINE_ **

In time, you found yourself alone… again.

In a short span of only two years, the guardian who said would have your back disappeared and never returned to you—and so you’ve entered a life truly on your own.

That is until you met Cal Kestis.

Three years ago, Cal was surprised to find another Jedi—who’s nearly in the same age as he is, no less. He found you in a street brawl against some Stormtroopers in Corellia, during a side trip to the planet. When he sensed that you were alone and on the run—as he did before—he offered you a place in the Mantis; seeing that there was nowhere else for you to go, not knowing where Strig could be or if he’ll ever come back, you got tired of waiting and being hopeless.

 _Strig, I’m sorry… but I will find you. I swear._ You said in your mind as you took Cal’s offering hand.

That time when you were getting to know each other, you became fast friends. Ironically, your bond was formed over the fact that you’re both Jedi—finally, something the two of you can relate to. Your connection was strengthened by your stories of surviving the Purge, even though you’re probably worlds apart and were complete strangers to each other. It was another way of growth, as Cere saw it.

Little by little, throughout that time you’ve spent together, that connection evolved into more than friends as the Mantis hopped from one planet to the next. The two of you became open books to one another and your relationship became intimate.

“I’m glad you’re here, [y/n],” Cere opened up to you once during your stay in Bogano. “I don’t know if you realize it but you’ve taken care of Cal in more ways than one.”

“Sometimes I feel like _he’s_ the one taking care of me!” you beamed, then shifted back to a somber tone. “I just know what it feels like to have lost everything. I think we all have gone through that one way or another.”

“I agree. For someone so young, you’re quite insightful,”

“My master often thought the same thing about me,”

A hint of sorrow laced the small smile on Cere’s face, “I’m sure he did.”

Eventually, your journey had brought you to the planet Zeffo. After that showdown with the AT-ST, you decided to take some time off before returning to the Mantis.

Once settled in, you’re almost afraid to close your eyes—afraid of the unknown that you’d see in the trance. Long have you struggled to prepare yourself once darkness loomed behind your eyes, often you did tell yourself that you’re ready but in reality are not, and you’re constantly plagued by loss, grief, death, and sorrow.

_“Padawan, listen well, whatever happens… Survive!”_

_“Master…!”_

_“Come on, kid, there’s nothing left for us here. But you don’t have to be alone…”_

The explosions, the ear-shattering whistles of the projectiles leaving the blasters’ barrels, and the shouts of the clones entered your one ear and exited the other; the sight of Master Zal Karos and his final moments when he was still alive, when you stood by his side against an army of unrelenting clones, was mind-numbing and made your head ache; and finally, the feeling of Strig’s friendly grip around your small hand brushed over your skin—you could feel the tattered padding of his gloves on your palm—and then you felt his touch on your back as he shepherded you out of the aftermath.

Your mind trapped in the persistent influence of your memories warped you to the town of Yezuf, in Ghidra—where you and Strig have made a home to flee from the Purge.

Fire blanketed the town and everyone was in an immense state of panic. Even though it was only a memory, the sensations felt real that it’s overwhelming: the harsh push of the crowd as you go against the flow felt like punches and jabs into your stomach, the heavy bodies shouldering past you made your arm twitch, and hands blindly digging in and bruising your skin as strangers held for support as they ran the other way.

_“Everybody, this area is off-limits! Authorized officers are only allowed beyond this point!”_

_“Strig?! STRIG!!”_

_“Violators shall be apprehended! Hey you, kid! Get outta here!”_

_“No wait! I have someone there..! STRIG!!!”_

“Strig…” you murmured.

The memories are still vivid in your mind, it’s as if they had only happened yesterday. Five years have passed since the Purge, and three for Strig’s unexplained disappearance when you were living in Ghidra. Most of the time, they invade your meditation, and yet you’re unable to open your eyes from it.

“Hey, [y/n],” Cal called from afar.

You open your eyes, the green grass beneath the pillars and stone’s throws fill your vision, and your head turns to Cal’s direction. He often finds you in the same spot at the windswept ruins. The young redhead scales the steps and joins you at the platform right before the tomb’s elevator.

“I know that look. Something troubling you?”

“It’s… getting difficult for me to focus on meditation lately,” you trail off and then dismiss the thought. “I’ll get over it.”

“Having trouble collecting your thoughts?”

“I suppose…” you trail off, staring at space in search of a word. “It’s nothing.”

Cal accompanied you in relishing the tranquility of this part of the planet. The two of you listened to the mountain breeze, the faint song of the ice and snow, and the shifting of the rocks beneath the surface—where the extravagant tombs rest. After that brief moment, he perked up and reached for his pouch behind his back.

“I got you something,”

“Oh, you did?”

Cal opens the flap to reveal a batch of bread that Greez made. When you took a bite, a dark red puree oozed out from the center.

“Are these…?”

“Strawberries!” Cal finished the question and answered it altogether. “I told Greez they’re your favorite. They liked it too back there.”

Your heart melted. The fact that you told Cal only once that strawberries were your favorite—but you didn’t expect him to remember that—made you all the more fuzzy inside. Cal may not know it, but he seems to find it quite easy to cheer you up—whether it’s making you smile or laugh, he always had a trick up his sleeve. You take bites of the bread, tilting your head back so the jam drops right into your mouth, and then swatting the crumbs off your face.

“The sky is so weird here,” you blurted.

“What made you say so?”

“Look, there’s always thunderclouds looming about, but no sign of rain—just cold wind,”

“Planets and their weather differ, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but compared to most planets I’ve been to back in the Clone Wars, the weather here is nicer.”

Amused in watching your curiosity and imagination run wild, Cal propped his cheek over his fist as he asked you more about the planets you’ve been to back in the day. In return, you made him promise to tell about his side of the story.

“Do you think our masters ever knew each other?” you bring up the topic out of the blue.

“What, you mean like, fought together until they had some Padawans tagging along with them?”

You giggled at Cal’s visualization, but still you nodded in reply, “I was thinking of something along the lines of just being in the same room but… Yes, something like that.”

“I’m sure they have, in one way or another,”

You gave an affirming nod and then silence followed. He noticed that you’ve stopped wolfing down on your favorite snack and just examined the last bite between your fingers. Cal decided that it was a good idea to steal the last bite off of your hands, he took the bread using his mouth and then took off.

“Hey!” you cried out.

“You weren’t eating it anymore!” his mouth was partially full, hopping through the grass as he spoke.

“Go get your own, you brought a bag of it!”

You chased after him and tackled him to the next lower tier. Like children, the pair of you burst out laughing and threw your backs flat on the bed of grass dotted with little purple flowers; Cal plucked one and gingerly placed it on your hair.

“Aww, look how pretty you are,” he cooed, stroking your cheek with the back of his hands.

You tossed to the side so you face each other, in turn, you’re now the one stroking his hair and dusting off shreds of grass at the same time and sprinkled petals on his hair too.


	4. A Familiar Face

The Mantis charted a course to Kashyyyk. For the rest of the trip, you sat on the couch, still finding yourself in deep thought. As you drew nearer to the planet, something in there was beckoning you, although you cannot say for sure what it was—it was a feeling, but of what?

Upon your arrival in the planet’s orbit, you’re met with a blockade of Star Destroyers. Cere made quick work of masking the ship’s signature in the Empire’s radar while entering the planet.

“[y/n], can you radars for me?”

“No problem, Cere,”

You watched the wall of monitors behind Greez’s seat, while the captain tries to fly casual, you kept a close eye on the radars—the blips indicating the Star Destroyers’ signature glowed in the same color as the Mantis.

“Okay, we’re good,” you breathed.

The shadow of the gargantuan command ship blanketed the smaller cruiser ship entering the planet. You weren’t sure if the pounding in your eardrums was your heart or the Star Destroyer’s thrusters pumping. You got through the blockade quietly and entered the sea of clouds of Kashyyyk’s atmosphere.

Once you’ve cut through the sheet of clouds and revealed the vast green landscape, you’re greeted by a TIE Fighter whooshing in only to be obliterated by a rebel gunship right in front of the Mantis’s windshield.

“What was that!?” you screeched.

“Kid, aren’t you supposed to be watching the monitors?!” Greez cries at Cal.

“Guerilla fighters! They’ve ambushed an assault convoy!”

“Walkers are approaching their position!” Cere added.

Keeping the objective of finding Tarfful in mind, Cal had to cook up a plan—and fast.

“Sabotage,” Cal said nonchalantly as he hopped out of his seat. “We used to scrap walkers in Bracca. I’ll just jack one.”

“Get a load of this kid, he think he’s back in the Clone Wars!” Greez scoffed.

“Babe, I love your confidence,” you start off with a blank, unreadable tone until Cal spotted your smirk. “But I say go for it!”

“You two kids are gonna do no good to my blood pressure _and_ my ship, you know that!?”

Cere tells Greez to fly the Mantis closer to the AT-AT walkers rising up from the depths of the Origin River. You slammed the button and the door whizzes open.

“Cal, do me a favor? Stay alive down there,”

“I’ll add that to the plan,” he turned to you, a flirtatious smug plastered on his face. “See you around?”

You grab him by the scruff of his poncho and stole a kiss, “Sure, I’ll be alive at the next stop past that disaster.”

You and Cere braced the walls for balance, Cal slowly stepped out of the moving ship and timed his jump.

“Ready for a swim, BD!?”

“Trill, BEEEEP!!!”

You watched Cal spring from the entry ramp, his whooping howl echoed as he vanished in the wind. Cere then turned to you.

“There he goes,” you said casually.

“Come on, [y/n], you take Cal’s seat at the cockpit and help us out,”

“No problem!”

Cal and BD-1 safely dropped into the Origin River and swam towards the moss-draped AT-AT walkers. Meanwhile, the Mantis crew worked their way through the dogfight in the sky.

“Hey kid, you a good shot?” said Greez.

“Why?”

“You’re gonna help me get through those TIE Fighters!”

Greez activated the Mantis’s ion cannons for you. A device pops out of its hatch from the floor and erects in front of you—revealing a steering analog complete with a targeting computer. Your eyes widened in great amazement—ion cannon analogs and targeting computers weren’t new to you, but fairly enough, it has been five years since you’ve seen some aerial action.

“Does Cal know about this?!” you squealed.

“Naw, this is the first time I’ve turned that thing on after a while! Now go on and get ‘em!”

You wore the headset that came with the analog and computer, you kept your eye on the targeting device until the TIE Fighter’s blip stayed still in the circle.

_Clack!_

You crunched the trigger buttons and out comes twin lasers shooting out of the ship’s armaments, the TIE Fighter went down in the first shot.

“Not bad!” Greez commended, but then muttered under his breath, though in a good way. “Heh, beginner’s luck.”

Peering through the windshield, you spotted a single AT-AT attacking _another_ AT-AT and immediately you knew that it was Cal maneuvering the friendly AT-AT.

“Looks like Cal’s sabotage plan worked,” you blurted and continued clearing the air out of hostiles.

“Kid’s having way too much with that thing!”

“Who wouldn’t?” a grin played along your lips.

Greez rolled his eyes when he saw the look on your face, “Oh, of course, peas in a pod, the pair of ya! Why do I even bother?!”

The Lateron steered clear of the skirmish in the ground as Cal slowly disappears into that trench pass, a larger TIE—which you guessed to be a shuttle-type—hovers low behind the high rock walls. The sabotaged walker trade blasters and cannons with that imposing, dark grey ship.

“Looks like we’ll have to push a little harder!” Cal exclaimed.

Cal pressed the buttons of the trigger hard, releasing a pair of ballistics out of the AT-AT’s twin barrels and meeting its mark on the TIE shuttle’s hull. The young Jedi, suddenly trigger-happy, continued sending blasts to the enemy hovering across him until it was beginning to burst in flames.

“Come on…!” Cal snarled through clenched teeth.

The wings of the TIE imploded, a firework of sparks sputtered out of the vehicle, Cal celebrated with a smug chuckle but instantaneously disappeared when he saw that the ship is spinning out of control _towards_ him.

“BRACE YOURSELF, BD!!!”

The AT-AT went down when the damaged TIE shuttle collided with it. Fortunately, Cal and BD-1 popped out of the emergency exit hatch at the bridge unscathed.

“Yeah, I’m okay. And you?”

“Bee, trill!”

“No, we are not doing that again,” Cal wagged his finger at the little mischief of a droid.

A gruff, dark man clad in bulk armor approached him.

“You just wrecked a perfectly good walker!”

Cal shrugged his shoulders, merely translating to “What else would you want me to do?”

The hulking man introduced himself as Saw Gerrera and immediately asked the boy his purpose of going to Kashyyyk in such interesting timing.

Before Cal could even answer, the Mantis hovered and landed on the hangar; you’re overly eager to hop out of the ship and jumped off the entry ramp in the middle of its unfolding. Before you could run up to Cal, you surveyed the destruction of the landing pad—your enthusiastic smile dissolved at the sight of the guerilla fighters in pain and immobilized. It almost reminded you of that particular event.

You walked up to Cal and then introduced yourself to Saw.

“So, what’s your business with him?”

“Jedi business,”

“The Jedi are dead,”

“Not all,” Cere cut in.

You and Cal tugged your lightsabers off of your belts. When questioned with how you got those weapons, the two young Jedi took no offense and answered respectively.

“My master gave it to me,”

“It’s been on my hip ever since I was a kid,”

“Well, my companions and I are trying to liberate the enslaved Wookiees, some of them are bound to know where Tarfful is,”

“You don’t mind if we take a look around?”

The guerilla leader didn’t mind. He quickly returned his mind to his responsibilities in front of him.

“My scouts have reported an Imperial transport filled with medical supplies, we need it more than the Imperials do. Can one of you make a run for it?”

You stepped in, “I could do that.”

“Alright, take some companions with you. You’re not carrying all of those alone,”

There was no room in arguing about that so you let Saw’s fighters accompany you to where the medical supplies are held. Cal snatched your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Wait,”

“What is it?”

He gingerly cupped your cheek and snuck in a kiss before you go.

“See you around?” he throws back the question to you.

“Yeah,” you bite your lip as you failed miserably in hiding a flirtatious smile. “See you.”

Cal didn’t let go of your hand, it slipped away as you walked farther from him; you cleared your throat, collecting your bearings before following one of the partisans taking the lead. The redhead then walked to the opposite direction towards the elevator leading to the forest trench.

Meanwhile, you had no problem getting along with the partisans.

“Your boyfriend sure seems protective of you,” one of them commented after the two of you slid off the body of the fallen AT-AT to the other side of the path.

A reaction that ought to be a chuckle turned out to be an awkward, casual scoff. She didn’t

“I’m Adrina, by the way, we look like we’re ‘bout the same age,”

“Name’s [y/n]. Nice to meet you,”

“Likewise!”

“Come on now, we’re not that far!” the leader hollered from the front of the pack.

It was a good thing that Cal didn’t blow up that one supply bay stationed along the trench pass. It was almost too convenient.

“There they are!” the leader announced and then waved his hand in the direction of the bay’s veranda, calling the attention of the fighters waiting for them.

The soldiers on the platform kicked down two ladders for all of you. As soon as you hauled yourself up and met with the group securing the supplies, the next thing wasn’t exactly you weren’t anticipating ever since you got into this planet.

“Well, it’s about time you hauled your asses up here to get these supplies—otherwise, I’d have given it to those Imps!”

The voice that came with those words made your chest constrict and you heart beat out of rhythm.

You know that voice better than anyone else.


	5. An Untimely Reunion

The leader casually greeted the man where that familiar voice belonged to.

When the owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows to join you in the veranda, he’s clad in the same armaments and outfit as the others, even though he’s fully armored, you know that face anywhere.

The pack went into the bay and started collecting the supplies, meanwhile, you’re frozen on where you stood, staring at the man who never came back home to you.

“Strig…” you uttered.

The man turned to the call of his name, your stomach sank when he did. It _is_ him _._

His calm demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye—his casual smile melted, his eyebrows furrowed, and then his lips parted only to release soundless words. He removed his helmet, as if that was going to help him take a better look at you.

Nothing much has changed in him except for the growth of his faded haircut has grayed out, it appears he decided to keep the goatee and lost the stubble that followed his jaw, and his head tattoo is still visible but the ink’s opacity has thinned out. Nicks and scars etched his face over time, slightly pink flesh disturbed the tan skin—they were the words to an explanation that you yearned to hear directly from him.

Nevertheless, you can recognize that face anywhere.

The two of approached one another, unable to speak even though there so many things that you wanted to tell to him all this time. Strig examined you from head to toe. In his eyes, only your height has changed.

“Look how big you’ve gotten…” he cracked.

The sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat again. You cannot determine what emotion is churning in your heart right now.

Is it anger?

Is it joy?

Are you going to hug him?

Or punch him in the stomach?

Frankly, you have no idea what to do next.

“Well, go on…” Strig was nearing to a sob. “Say something.”

“You’re alive…” you barely moved your mouth.

Strig somewhat understood your words; he hung his head low, sighing as his shifted back and forth, avoiding your gaze. He wanted to explain everything to you, but now isn’t exactly the best time.

You didn’t say anything more. You simply threw yourself into his arms and the tears could no longer be contained the moment you felt Strig’s arms wrap around you.

The clone felt like a great burden has been taken out of his chest. Seeing you alive was perhaps the best thing that has ever happened to him since. His thumb ran across your cheeks, wiping away the tears rolling down from your eyes.

“Hey, don’t let them see the tough girl cry,” Strig cooed.

You sniffled and wiped the tears still stained your face, “I have so much to tell you…”

“Do you know each other?” Adrina politely cuts in when Strig was about to speak to you.

“Hey there, Adrina, I see you’ve met [y/n],”

“Yeah, she just got here. She’s helping out in retrieving the supplies, Saw’s orders,”

“Did you now?” Strig chuckled, an upward curl played along the corner of his mouth.

Adrina asked for help in collecting the containers filled with the medical supplies they badly need for the people back at the landing pad. The queue acted almost mechanical, passing one container to the next until it reaches the person waiting by the railings—Strig’s faction at the bay have improvised a pulley, knowing that another group will come to fetch the supplies.

When you were down to the last box, Strig tapped your shoulder before you prepared yourself to rappel down the supply containment bay.

“Hey, kid,”

“Yeah?”

“See you at the landing pad later?”

“Sure,” you beamed a smile. “You owe an explanation after all!”

You slipped down the rappel cord before Strig could respond to that.

Before following Adrina and the pack, you looked back once more and saw him leaning against the railing, you both waved goodbye for now to each other and went back to your duties.

“How did you come to know Strig?” Adrina began.

“He’s the one who saved my life,” you smiled privately. “When no one else could.”

Adrina narrates that she has known Strig only for a short time and knows only little. In turn, you tell your side of the story about him. However, you were cautious enough to not disclose the part that he is a clone, although, you’re already under the presumption that maybe Strig himself has told everyone in the faction.

Luckily, the young partisan didn’t go into much detail.

“You two seem very close, even after being so far apart for so long,”

“Yeah, you could say that,”

Eventually, the pack had trouble in crossing the path blocked by the wrecked AT-AT.

“Oh no, how do we get across with all this baggage?” one of the partisans exclaimed.

You set down the container you were holding and studied the walker closely. The legs would be too heavy for you to carry—even if you used the Force—and you surveyed your surroundings to see if there’s anything you can work with.

“I have an idea!” you chirped.

You scaled the body of the walker and sat on the flat surface there, high enough for you to see both sides of the path, and then you focused on the box that you put down on the ground; you extend your arm, focusing your concentration on the object until it started to rattle by itself—startling the partisans—until the box is now floating right in front of them, your action received murmurs and gasps as a reaction but it was typical. Motioning your hand to the side, the box vault over the AT-AT’s leg-and-shoulder joint.

“Everyone, vault over the AT-AT first and I’ll lift the boxes to you. Sound good?”

The group liked your idea, without a moment’s hesitation, they crawled over the gigantic metal quadruped, afterwards, you do the exact same thing that you demonstrated seconds ago. Eventually, everybody got the loot back in their hands and marched towards the landing pad, some of them came sprinting towards the area.

Your box was the last one to transfer over, when you gingerly put it down on the other side, you buckled your knees and slid down the iron giant. Adrina took a few paces ahead but still waited for you.

“That was great thinking back there, [y/n]!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, just became creative is all,”

“Being a Jedi sure must be cool!”

“Oh, uh,” you stammered. “I suppose so. It had its ups and downs.”

 _Oh sweetie, if only you knew what really went down for ALL of us back then_. Your subconscious couldn’t help but ring that in your head, instead, you pretended that that was the exact thing you told Adrina.

Upon arriving to the landing pad, it seems that Cal surely has taken his time with Saw Gerrera and the other partisans. Continuing with your current task, you and Adrina stash the containers filled with medical supplies. Mirienna helped in receiving the supplies along with the other medics.

“Is this everything from the bay?” asked the woman.

“Yes, I just a radio call from the other squadron, they’re sweeping the other supply bay as we speak,” Adrina reported.

“Good, all the wounded should pull through for tonight,”

“What about the Wookiees? Will there be enough for them too?” you add.

“The second supply run should have enough to cover the Wookiees once they’ve been liberated by Saw,” Mirienna replied.

“I can stay here and help some more,” you offered.

“That’d be splendid, [y/n], thank you,” Mirienna replied with her warm tone.

Eventually, Strig—along with his faction—regrouped at the landing bay, dispersing as soon as each soldier went to different points of interest. You rejoined Strig by the lower platform of the hangar. He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the wrecked AT-AT.

“Did _you_ do that?”

“Frankly, I wish it was me,”

“Who then?”

Strig saw the way your eye shift to your right. It was your mannerism.

“I know that look, Spinner,” his eyebrow flicked upward. “Eyes to the right mean you’re not telling me something… for now.”

Even three years later, he still memorized every little habit—good or bad—that you had. After all, he still had the mind of a clone—with most of the learning programs intact in his brain. The mention of his personal nickname for you made your ears prick and caused a little smirk.

“You still remember the nickname?”

“How could I forget? You were always the one sending your starfighter spinning through aerial assaults it makes me dizzy just by looking at ya!”

“Master Karos always scolded me whenever I do—even if I survived!” you beamed back.

The two of you share a hearty laugh rooted by inside jokes and fond memories, albeit brief. Your joint attention turned to the bustle happening around the landing pad—medics sprint from one side to the other, able-bodied soldiers carry their comrades and lay them down on the makeshift cots.

“Work never ends here,”

“Just like the old times, huh?”

“Yeah, except that one part,”

“We don’t talk about _that_ one part,”

“Right.” Strig purred, ending the banter.


	6. Back in Action

There were debris that had to be cleared out of the landing pad, in case partisans and rescued Wookiees are nearer to that point once they rendezvous. The big problem was the AT-AT, the partisans had little to no resources in moving that away, but they need to clear the path for the other groups coming from the other side.

“Can’t exactly blow it up, can we?” you suggested.

“No, Spinner, we can’t blow it up,”

“Well, my next idea was to tow it until the legs come off,”

“We’ll need some heavy machinery to do that. I don’t see any working walkers or gunships here, do you?”

The day became very busy. The wrecked walker will have to wait, you made yourselves busy in the landing pad—receiving the new batch of supplies, tending to the injured, assisting the medics, and the like. When most of the work at the landing pad has been done, you join Strig and the others to the refinery.

The elevator door rumbled and revealed the forest trench, it was literally a hop and a skip to the platform up ahead. Most of the partisans had their gear to easily traverse the terrain, Strig noticed that you’re barely armed—save for your lightsaber, of course.

“You need some help getting across, Spinner?”

“I think I can hold out well,”

“Alright,”

Strig and the others went ahead with their grappling hooks and rope-guns, from behind, you ran the walls, hopped the gaps, and got rid of the flame beetles before you could grab the liana to swing across. From the platform, Strig watched you navigate through the trench.

“Huh, not bad,” he muttered under his breath.

You landed on the balls of your feet after climbing up the grate.

“I see that you ain’t rusty yet, huh?”

“Oh, I had some practice through the years,” you huffed, catching your breath. “I have a good training buddy too.”

A fatherly intuition was piqued from your last sentence. Strig tried his best to hide his overprotectiveness and kept it casual.

“Do you?”

“Uh-huh,”

There it is again, the side-eye to the right.

“Look, we’re gonna have to get to the high ground and there’s no way you’re climbing that and joining us at the top in time,”

“I think I can handle myself pretty well, Strig,”

“I don’t doubt that, but I’m trying to make this easy for you,” he tugged another blaster pistol from his vest’s utility belt and handed it over to you. “You’ll need this grappling hook.”

The tool leaves his hand, you follow Strig’s lead and then pulled the trigger as you pointed it at the ledge above. Both of you zip upwards and land on the balls of your feet when the length of the cord retracted back into the gun.

“You’re three years overdue with your explanation— _two_ of them, at that,”

“Two?! Whoa hey, slow down there, Spinner, we’re just getting started with the mission!”

“Then let’s finish it quickly,” you coyly smirked and lightly thumped his chest with the back of your hand.

You gather at the edge of the platform here there’s optimum view of the whole refinery—at least the bulk of it—the pack leader peered through his binoculars and surveyed each portion of the area.

“Gerrera should be in the control center at the end of that hallway,” the pack leader points at the infrastructure. “They should also be close to the prison blocks over there, and then the Wookiees would be free. Come on!”

The group stalked through a shortcut in the forest that leads out to the suspension beams of the refinery. This time, you scaled the structure without using the grappling hook, but let everyone else climb up ahead first so you could follow.

The people in front broke down the ventilation grate for everyone to sneak through, later on, you joined everyone else in the command center—including Saw—but they were in the middle of the skirmish. The Stormtroopers that were stationed there were easily outgunned and outnumbered; you heard the whiz of a door and in the corner of your eye, indigo sparks covered the end of an electrostaff.

“Strig, [y/n], come on!” one of the soldiers, faceless in the room blanketed in red light, motioned at the two of you and headed strode through the twists and turns of the network of corridors leading to god-knows-where.

Cal just missed you, he appeared when the large blast door open and he’s greeted by the electrostaff Purge Trooper—you were already through the other door with the others en route to the prison block. A code read as “4B” was painted white on the dark grey metal walls of the cell block, however, it wasn’t easy freeing this batch of Wookiees. Your group had to fight through an entire security unit consisting of Stormtroopers and at least five Imperial droids.

“The insurgents have breached block 4B!”

“They’re outnumbered, we can take them on!”

By instinct, you took out your saber from your belt and started banking the shots to the Stormtroopers. Suddenly, the Stormtroopers’ morale sank below average level.

“[y/n], wait!”

“Oh no, they got a Jedi with them!”

The partisans needn’t to worry about the Imperial security droids—you had it covered. You were deflecting the tall droid’s heavy punches, you caught a glimpse of another running towards you and it was already running across the bridge connecting your platform to the other.

You staggered away from the droid you’re dealing with, you Force-pushed the droid to the one charging towards you and they fell down hard on the concrete floor below. From above, a small transport-gunship hovered over your heads, deploying more reinforcements; you spot a barrel of explosives that can destroy the gunship as well as the troops inside.

“Strig! Barrels!”

Using the Force again, you launched the barrels up in the air and Strig—being the sharpshooter that he is—made fireworks out of those gasoline-filled tanks with a single, perfectly-timed shot at the enemy. The gas wasn’t potent enough to make a large-scale explosion, but it was enough to overpower the Stormtroopers by cutting off their reinforcements.

When the gunship spun out of control and plummeted to that vat of sap that the Empire themselves have harvested, one of the partisans who infiltrated in the command center hit the button and set all of the Wookiees free all at once. It was a cacophony of cheers. Strig clapped you on the shoulder.

“I see you’re still sharp with that lightsaber, Spinner,”

“You still live up to my nickname for you, Sureshot,” you winked.

All of a sudden, the partisans started swamping towards the two of you—celebrating your teamwork, they started smothering Strig with tight hugs, tousling his head, hard claps on his back, and they showered you with the same treatment. Overwhelmed with the positive emotions flooding you from every direction, your only response is beam a smile and nod.

For the first time, this was what liberty feels like for you and this was a firsthand taste of it. It was something you, your master, Strig and the clones fought for once… before the Empire ruined everything. Strig watched you be showered with affirming words and cheers, and pats on the shoulder, beyond your sweet, innocent smile—he can feel that you’re just trying to keep up with everybody’s energy.

“You don’t celebrate much, Spinner?”

“I don’t save one planet from the Empire’s iron grasp every day,”

“You’ll get used to it,”

The leader received a radio call from the other faction, Cal has freed the rest of the Wookiees and has now regrouped with Mari Kosan. This furthered the celebratory mood of the partisans. It’s too early for a victory party, but it’ll be in order soon.

“Come on, Spinner, let’s get back to base,” Strig notices a graze on your shoulder. He wagered the adrenaline has numbed you of the pain for you to not notice. “We need that cleaned and patched up. You can get gangrene pretty easily with all the crawlies here in Kashyyyk.”

You playfully grimaced, “Will I have mushblooms growing out of my arm any minute now?”

“Oh yeah,” Strig played along. “I can see the stems popping out already right there!”

You’re glad that Strig retained his sense of humor.

Now that you and Cal have cleared the path for the partisans to freely navigate through the refinery, Strig led you to a shortcut that leads back to the landing pad. He collected some medical supplies from the box that you retrieved earlier and then began patching you up.

“Tell me if it stings, okay?”

“What am I, ten?”

“You still look like you are,” he lightly taps the tip of your nose as he chuckled.

The gentleness of his hands never went away over time. Even though it has been so long, his touch was still ingrained in your nerves. It made you flinch for a bit, but then calmed seconds later. It was the same kind of touch that he emitted when he offered his hand to the child who had lost her master.

“There we go, all patched up and ready to go,” Strig cooed.

“Thank you, Strig,”

“You’re welcome,”

Minutes later, you find that Cal has returned to the landing pad after his own side of the victory. You spring up from your seat and ran up to him—Strig’s eyes followed you until you’re at a finger’s length away from the redhead boy. Cal caught you in a hug, lifted you inches off the ground and lightly spun you around.

“We did it!” you cheered.

Out of impulse, Cal gingerly caressed your cheek and closed in for a kiss— _right in front of Strig_. This little display warranted a raise of the eyebrow from your long-lost guardian.

Strig _loudly_ cleared his throat.


	7. In the Embers, Lie the Answers

The look on Strig’s face demanded an explanation from _you_ as well.

When Cal caught a full glimpse of the stranger’s face, it was a face that was eerily familiar to him.

The young Jedi, seemingly provoked by the sight of a clone, buckled and reached for his saber. Luckily, you were quick enough to stop and calm him down.

“It’s okay, Cal!” you cupped his face, stepping between him and Strig, making sure that his eyes were all on you. You continued to shush him, “Baby, it’s okay, he won’t hurt us.”

“How is that possible?!” he snarled through the grit of his teeth, trying so hard not to cause a scene and alarm the others by the sound of his saber being ignited. “[y/n], he’s a clone!”

“He’s the reason why I’m still here,”

Cal’s eyebrows pulled together and painted a quizzical look at you, obviously confused beyond comprehension, and now _he_ is demanding an explanation.

Standing between the two men of your life, you barred them away from each other with both of your arms and your hands padded against their chests, in case one of them decides to tackle the other—though you weren’t sure how likely that is to happen, and what good or help barring them with your arms will do—and waited until they calmed down on your whim.

“And could this be your… _good training buddy_ , eh, Spinner?”

“Spinner?” Cal parroted.

It’s difficult to answer two questions all at the same time.

Long have you avoided the topic of the Jedi Purge. Cal seldom brought it up—whether for it’s his own sake or yours—and he only managed to get inklings from your stories when asked.

You turned to Strig, shooting him a look that roughly translates to “We’ll start with your explanation first,” for Cal’s indulgence as well. When you felt that the tension has dissolved, you pulled your hands away from the boys and you decide to answer one at a time.

“Strig, meet Cal—my boyfriend,”

In reaction, Strig’s eyes slightly squinted and his jaw clenched. He felt like he had already solved the mystery of your side-eye since earlier. For some reason, the pair of words “my boyfriend” rang foreign in his eardrums, though he admitted to himself that he should’ve seen it coming.

“Cal, this is Strig—my guardian after the Purge… until he disappeared two years later and then appeared after three.”

Your guardian’s face immediately morphed into a mild sneer, though he thinks you deserve to say that after all this time of unintentionally disappearing and having you to fend for yourself.

“Okay, fair enough, Spinner,”

“My turn,” Cal turned to you and asked about the nickname again in a curious, eager tone.

“The nickname Strig gave me back in the Clone Wars,”

“And why that kind of nickname?”

“Because she kept doing 360s with her Starfighter,”

Later that night, when everyone else was resting after that hard-fought victory, the interesting trio hung out by the shoreline of the river past the AT-AT as a celebration; with the help of the Wookiees and their artillery, they managed to pull off the legs of the AT-AT so anybody can come and go as they please.

“There used to be a little checkpoint the boys and I made, just a campfire though, nothing special,” Strig added as he led the two kids through the vegetation. “I think it’s still there. I cook up a killer batch of smores!”

“We’d love that, if only we had something to toast over the fire,”

“You kids wanna ransack the rations?” Strig invited, you’re not entirely surprised he’d come up with such an idea, although you can’t help but admit that you missed this kind of banter.

“Sure, without running the risk of getting my arms pulled out of their sockets by hungry Wookiees,” you clapped back.

There was a spot that brought you paces into the forest, but the river’s shoreline and main path was still there. The crickets chirped in rhythm, the fireflies flickered on and off as they fluttered about, there was peace in the nighttime of Kashyyyk—it’s actually comforting.

Strig set up a campfire around the three of you, he sat on a log and propped his elbows above his knees, whilst you and Cal leaned against the fallen log opposite Strig and then scooched closer to each other.

“Well, I guess you wanna know how I got here, Spinner,”

“No, I want you to start on the day you didn’t come back home,”

“Okay,” he sighed, twiddled his thumbs together and mustered all of his memory to that day three years ago. “So, Ghidra, huh?”

A nod from you prompted him.

“That day, there was an influx of orders. Tabek had _begged_ me to stay beyond my shift because I was the only one there, the others have left—probably escaping the exact predicament I’ve gotten myself into—and so it’s just me,”

The firelight danced about his aging, etched face, he searched the embers in the firewood for the words to continue on. In fact, the flames were all that he could remember… and so did you.

“In the middle of working, there was an explosion—it didn’t come from the shop, exactly, it just so happen that we were in the blast radius,”

“Was it a freak accident?”

“I can’t say for sure, Spinner,” you sensed from his voice that he was trying not to delve into the heavier details, but his tone of voice with how he said your nickname was somber; he wasn’t exactly good with disguising his voice, the same way you weren’t with your facial expressions—that was _his_ mannerism.

Nevertheless, he continued with his story. Strig took his time in pausing to recompose himself, apparently there were so many sentences strung along his mind that he wanted to tell you for you to understand his side of the story—but he wanted to make it as coherent as possible.

“The next thing I knew, the shop was wrecked due to the explosion—everything started catching fire—I had to help Tabek out. When we got out, we were caught in the flow of the rioters—it had to be them who started it—and Stormtroopers were after them,”

“The Stormtroopers thought you and Tabek were one of them,”

“Yeah,” he nodded weakly. “And since I’ve gotten myself at a disadvantage with Tabek, they easily got us—there was nowhere else to run anyway. Follow the crowd, we’ll get caught; go the other way and the Stormtroopers would’ve caught us sooner.”

That wasn’t the end of it, however. His story transitioned to his false incarceration, adding the fact that the system of the Empire isn’t exactly lenient as it was back in the Republic era—something you and Cal can concur. Nonetheless, Strig still served the jail time he never deserved in the first place.

“They put Tabek in another cell, far from mine. I don’t know what happened to him after that. When they saw that I was a clone—no surprise there—they did a screening on me and found that my inhibitor chip was missing. I got charged for treason simply because I didn’t have the one thing that made my brothers kill off the Jedi,”

This was the first time Cal heard that word. The boy shifted in his seat and asked about it.

“They’re organic bio-chips integrated into the clones’ shared genetic code to make us do whatever _someone_ wants,” his eyes avoided the two youngsters intently looking at him, it felt like he was their only answer to the age-old question. “Killing the Jedi, for instance.”

Strig also describes it as a small, fleshy piece of mass, correcting the mental picture that you and Cal have painted in your minds; when questioned about he how he got it removed, a day prior to the Purge, he had visited the medical bay for complaints about a four-day-old migraine—apparently, the medical droid misdiagnosed the chip as a malign cyst and must be promptly surgically removed to avoid infection. Of course, not knowing what it initially was, he consented to the swift removal of the chip.

“It had to take another clone redressed in a Stormtrooper’s armor to explain everything to me, he told me I was a massive fool to not have known; they labeled me a traitor, a defector, and disowned me as their brother—but they don’t know that I have denounced them on the day they pulled the trigger,” he dryly chuckled and massaged his jaw, a sensation felt fresh to him. “Then the bastard hammered his blaster on my face.”

Strig looked into the fire. Most of the time, he avoided your eyes, for he shared the same guilt that the other clones must have had after the deed was done. You and Cal exchanged glances, and then both turned back to Strig.

The word “traitor” was a two-way road for him: he was one in the eyes of his brothers—the clones—and the same in the eyes of the Jedi.

He was afraid that, in one way or another, you thought the same of him, too.

He had trouble making peace with that, he had beat himself up only to anticipate it to come from you and simply accept it. Perhaps, it would be the absolution of his penance, albeit a painful one.

“You’re not a traitor, Strig. You never were to me.”

Your guardian’s head shot up—Cal, as well, turned his head to you—the warmth of your voice wrapped around his heart, it was constricting but comforting, he doesn’t know what to make of it. There was no hate in your words when he sought it, he only felt love when he wasn’t expecting something completely opposite of that.

“You were the only one I had when I thought I lost it all, Strig,” you whispered in his ear, nuzzling closer to him. “I left Ghidra hoping that I’d find you again, and now I have.”

Tears flooded Strig’s eyes and rolled ceaselessly down his cheeks, they pooled on your shirt as they fell. He buried his face on the crook of your shoulder as he tightened his hold around you. His little girl had found him first when he had been searching for her all this time. In a sense, things have gone full circle.

When the embrace ended, you invited Cal to scooch closer so you sat between the two important men in your life.

“So, Cal, how did you end up finding [y/n]?”

“During a side trip in Corellia, she backed me up in a street fight,”

“He has a weird knack of getting into these sorts of trouble,” you added.

“And I wager you’re the one picking up after him?”

“More like I’m the one picking _him_ up,”

“Or the other way around!” Cal rebuts.

The exchange amused Strig and he burst in laughter, seeing how the two of you still behave like children. Eventually, the three of you just shared a hearty laughter. You tilt you head back up, the forest canopy opened up and revealed the night sky—an untouched beauty of Kashyyyk. The fireflies glowed with the stars’ glitters, Strig rested his cheek on your head whilst Cal snuggled you, resting his head on your shoulder as the night drifts by the song of the crickets and the forest.


	8. Never A Farewell

The next morning, you decided to introduce Strig to Cere. Cal helped out in prepping Cere into a calm mood, although the outcome usually ends up in the exact opposite of what he intended to do, and you stepped in with Strig in tow.

After introducing Strig as your guardian, Cere had the exact reaction as Cal, except that she handled herself with more calmness and curiosity in the guise of skepticism. When her lips parted, ready to say something, you immediately beat her to it.

“It’s kind of a long story, but I’ll tell you in the Mantis,”

Things calmed down between Cere and the three of you. Greez greeted the clone with his usual stinginess, it comes to show that he has never seen a clone without its helmet. The Lateron captain, hospitable as they are, decided to go whip up some snacks for the guest; while the four of you settle down on the lounge couch just below the dining area.

Strig answered all of Cere’s questions, many of which were the same as you and Cal’s, but she had more of her own that neither of you asked last night.

“What legion were you from?”

“The 167th Legion, ma’am,”

Cere asked about the inhibitor chip, suddenly the cogs of her curiosity were spinning again—more or less, she’s becoming quite like her inquisitive master—and Strig was more than happy to oblige in answering her queries. Perhaps the most chilling bit of his narrative was the fact that it was the Supreme Chancellor—later, the Emperor—who called the shots.

“Truth be told, to this day, I still don’t understand why,” Strig confessed.

“It’s all past us now, soldier. What matters is you’re doing good things here now,” Cere reassured.

Later that day, everyone was in their duties. Cere kept herself busy in the Mantis, trying to splice the Imperials’ signals in case she can fish for some intel; meanwhile, you and Cal needed to find Tarfful.

“Tarfful?”

“The Wookiee chieftain. Do you know where he could be, Strig?”

“I’ve only heard from the Wookiees that he’s taken refuge in the deeper parts of the forest,”

You sense the hint of concern in his voice, and there probably seems to be a good reason as to why.

“What’s wrong, Strig?”

“Well, you’re not probably used to carnivorous plants in dense jungles?”

“Believe me, each planet has their own freakshow, and Cal and I just have own fair share of it.”

“Then you’ll be fine,” Strig chuckled.

Cal gently tapped your arm, “Come on, let’s go check the other spots before we head out.”

“Okay,” you flash a small smile to Cal and then turn to Strig. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, kids,”

The clone watches the two of you run off through the elevator and head to God-knows-where. He smiled to himself with his arms crossed together until you disappeared from the landing pad and through the AT-AT. Cere approached Strig, noticed the way he looked at you and Cal.

“Something on your mind, Strig?”

“I was just thinking how she had fared when I was gone. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of her—if she was eating well, sleeping in a place with a roof over her head, or if she’s cleaning up after herself. That is until she found Cal. Was he your Padawan, ma’am?”

Cere’s eyes wandered, “No, I had a different one. It was a girl.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I—”

“Please, Strig, no need to be so formal. Just call me Cere.”

“Cere,” Strig repeated then composed himself again. “Has she… Has [y/n] been taking care of herself ever since she was with you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about your little girl, she’s been doing quite well ever since she’s joined the crew,”

“She was in Corellia when you found her,” Strig recalled.

Cere nodded, “Yes, she was somewhat lost—but in the way you’re thinking of. I don’t think she planned on staying in Corellia for long. That is until Cal found her and the next thing I saw—she appeared to be healing. Maybe because she and Cal pretty much have the same experience.”

Strig sighed, having nothing else to say back to that. However, he wholeheartedly agreed with Cere and sensed the sincerity in her words; but the fact that you’re healing with Cal—the same way he was with you—highlighted in his mind.

Meanwhile, you and Cal find yourselves at the same area as last night. You take the lead and he followed you to one of the supply bays. You find that the ropes in the pulleys weren’t undone and still hung below.

“Strig said there’d be ship supplies that we can use here,” you blurted.

“I’m surprised that you still trust him, even though it’s been a long time,”

“In a situation like this, with the Empire and all that, do we really have the luxury to harbor hate?”

Apparently, your words caught Cal off-guard while the two of you walked together, heading to one of the supply bays beyond the one where you reunited with Strig.

“Wow, that’s… that’s actually a mature thing for you to say,”

You chuckle in reaction, “I can be mature too, you know.”

After a few minutes’ worth of trekking, the two of you finally found the supply bay storing machine and ship components. You only took what you needed but stuck around when you got a view of the river without Imperial ships trashing the landscape.

Cal can sense something troubling your mind, seeing as to why you’re suddenly quiet as you stared at the landscape. He joined you by the bannister, overlooking the river, and propped himself on his arms next to you.

“Something on your mind?”

“Is it bad if I ask if we can bring Strig along?”

“I don’t think I’m in that place to say so, sweetie,”

“I understand. It’s been so long and I feel like I haven’t caught up with him enough,”

“I envy you, you know,”

You jerk your head to Cal, shooting him a puzzled look.

“You already had someone else you knew before the Purge, before meeting me and the crew. Even if you and Strig got separated, and only met again just now, at least it must’ve crossed your minds that you had someone; unlike myself, I only had… well, myself.”

You nudged closer to him, slipping your arm around his and leaning against his bicep.

“Well, neither of us have to be alone now, right?”

He smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, “Never.”

Hours have passed and the two of you continued strolling around until you came across the shoreline of the great Origin River. To you, it didn’t exactly look like a river, it was more of an ocean. As you walked by the shore, colorful rocks beached and dotted the sand, your eyes caught one or two. Cal watched you take off your boots and roll up the hem of your pants, he did the same and both of you dipped your toes into the water—it was nice and cool.

“Don’t tackle me or anything!” you squealed.

“Not if you tackle me first!”

The two of you gleefully frolicked, kicking and splashing at one another, dipping your arms up to your elbows into the water to cool yourselves off. Cal put up an act saying that he felt something slip past his leg.

“Very funny, Cal,”

“No, really!” he picked up a thick strand of freshwater kelp that’s blackened with age. “Oh God, [y/n], it’s a river snake!”

“Cal, you psycho! Get that away from me!”

He chased you with it, you were too freaked out to realize that it was only a piece of plant that looked the part. As retaliation, you scooped up a handful of water and threw it over his head; water dribbled at the tips of his hair. His revenge was the same as yours; now the two of you are drenched. He dropped the kelp, he ran his fingers through his wet hair—little strands strayed off from his hairline even after he smoothed out his hair—and caught you staring.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” you cooed as you briskly shook your head. You had to look away to bite your lip, fighting off a private smile.

The playtime became mellower. A breeze picks up conveniently enough to dry yourselves. The scent of petrichor was rich in the air as it drifted into your direction. You were growing tired of the stale air of the machinery in Zeffo, only the windswept ruins had its flora intact—no metal, just grass and flowers.

Cere radioed the two of you, she wasn’t able to hide the urgency in her voice when she spoke.

“I think we have a lead about the tomb at Zeffo. Mari said it’ll take a while before she can disclose Tarfful’s whereabouts.”

“Alright, we’ll head back there now,” Cal replied.

You and Cal rushed back to land, sat on the shore to dust off the sand on your feet before putting your boots back on.

“Race you there?” Cal started.

“No fair, you have a headstart! You’re close to finishing on your boots!”

“Well, gain on me when you can, slowpoke!” he teased, stealing a quick kiss on your cheek while you’re still struggling to buckle the strap of your boot.

“I hate it when you do that!”

“You’re falling behind!” he chortled.

The two of you raced across the shore, back to the forest, and finally reaching the landing pad. Whoever sets foot onto the metal floor wins—Cal came up with that _seconds_ before he could plant the balls of his feet on the floor. Both of you arrived desperate for air, hunched over with your hands on your knees as you breathe in and out.

“Well, that’s a weird warm-up for you,” Strig commented.

“We do this all the time!” you beamed.

“You two are soaking wet,” Cere pointed out.

You pointed your thumb at Cal, “His idea. No, his fault!”

When your energy subsided to the needed level, Cere briefed the two of you into further detail about the lead she picked up about Zeffo. It’s possible that the Inquisitors are on the way to the planet to try and crack the tomb to get the artifact there.

“That is if they know what they’re looking for,” you commented.

“Inquisitors have a lot of researchers and scholars at their disposal, let’s hope they haven’t found the tomb yet,”

“Let’s hope they haven’t cracked the code yet,” Cal added.

“We leave when you’re ready,”

The two young Jedi make yourselves busy in doing last-minute tweaks and inventory checks. Strig walked up to you, apparently he’s overheard that you’re about to leave Kashyyyk any minute now.

“So, out on the road again, Spinner?”

You dropped everything and spoke to him. Your tone was somber and pleading, like a child begging to go with their parent.

“Don’t you want to come with us, Strig?”

Strig’s eyes wandered over your shoulder, glancing at Cal and then to Cere and Greez. He took the deepest sigh his lungs could muster and gingerly took your hands into his.

“Spinner, my place is here; the same way your place is with them. Even for just a short time of meeting everyone, I can tell that you belong with them—especially with Cal. You’re so happy with him. Maybe the happiest I’ve ever seen. This kind of setting is no different from back in the Clone Wars,”

“But I can fight,”

“I never doubted that for a split second, [y/n]. But eventually, you’ll find your own battle that you’re sure to win. Do you understand that?”

You nodded sincerely.

“You know what? Whatever happens, I got your back… always.”

You threw yourself into his arms, in a burst of tears, this time it was you who was pooling tears on the shoulder of his shirt.

“You were never a great motivational speaker,” you dryly joked while choking back on your tears.

He chuckled, “Yeah, never was, eh?”

You planted a goodbye kiss on his cheek before pulling away, even though you hesitated to let go. Strig turned to Cal as the boy approached the two of you.

“Take care of her, will ya?”

“I will. She’s in good hands,”

“I know she is,” he turned to you again, bracing your arms and giving you a quick shake. “I’ll see you soon okay? I won’t go anywhere anytime soon.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now run along, Spinner.”

With one last hug, you whisper in his ear, “I love you so much… Dad.”

Strig released a sigh, tightening his embrace around you one last time.

“Aww, you’re gonna make a mess outta me, Spinner,” he awkwardly chuckled, trying to conceal his crying but is failing epically. “Run along, now, kiddo.”

As you withdrew from his embrace, you felt his grip still tight around your arm but it was gentle. You take one step, a little secret tug to prompt him to let go—even though he’s finding it greatly difficult to do so—and allowed his fingers to loosen up a bit until your fingers have unhooked from one another.

Your other hand takes Cal’s, but you take one last look behind you.

All of a sudden, the memory of you as a child flashed before his eyes—it was the exact moment when you looked over your shoulder when he asked if you were okay. He saw the face of the scared little girl he picked up from the wake of destruction; he blinked once and now he’s looking at the grown girl smiling back at him.

It may not be him who helped you heal wholly, but he’s glad that he was a part of it—and that was more than enough—for he knows perfectly well that no one can take that away.

A single tear rolls down his cheek as he watched the Mantis take off, with you standing by the partially-open entry ramp and waving goodbye at him.


End file.
